


Feel It

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost B.C.
Genre: F/M, First Experience, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, papa and copia aren't related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr Prompts:Copia&Papa III helping a fem s/o who has never masturbated before? (Not from any religious reasons, more the thought just scared them)
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus III, Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Feel It

Papa III wants to make sure you are relaxed and comfortable. He insists on this happening in his bed chambers, which are already outfitted for hedonistic comfort. Copia’s chambers—while cozy—are a little austere.

III lights some candles (the good kind) of your favorite scent and he gets the fireplace going, for ambiance—the heat is unnecessary as he’s turned the thermostat up. He’s in his slinky woman’s-cut robe, which Copia immediately take umbrage against when he arrives in a velvet burgundy pajama set.

“Papa, what is this?”

“It is for getting in the mood! Unlike your … old man set.”

The Cardinal scoffs, “We are to be making her comfortable. This is not one of your orgies.”

“It _is_ for feeling sexy! We want her to feel sexy. Do you think you look sexy covered up from throat to ankle, hmm?”

He saunters over to undo a few top buttons, which Copia tolerates.

“I do not suppose you are wearing the boxers?”

“Ah, um. No.”

“You could borrow some from me?”

Copia eyes the silk boxers with hearts peeking out of the robe.

“Um. No thank you.”

Papa III shrugs and meanders over to his dresser, where he starts to pull out his sex toys. Copia _tsks_.

“You want her to be comfortable, yet you pull out this?”

He holds up a long dildo that sways dangerously.

Papa stops his rummaging. “No?” Copia give him a flat look. “What? People, they use the aids all the time!”

Copia leans over to eye the contents of the drawer. He starts pointing.

“Start with something small, like this. And that. And grab those massage oils.”

The two of them arrange things as unobtrusively on the night table as they can, then wait for your arrival.

When you arrive, it’s Copia that greets you at the door, extending an arm for you to grab onto as he escorts you into the bed chambers. You can’t help but fiddle with the soft material of his top under your fingers, and he smiles over at you.

The two of you enter to find Papa III lounging nonchalantly casually, propped on his chaise. He straightens and prowls over to you, taking your unencumbered hand in an unspoken switch off between the two men. You’d been tense as you made your way to III’s quarters, but you can’t help but feel calmed by the crackle of the fire and the sweet scent wafting from the candles.

“Up on the bed, little one,” he directs as he helps you up. You crawl across his soft sheets—not silk this time, but the threadcount must be off the charts—to settle at the center of the bed. You’d been cold on your way over—wearing a simple, but youthful cotton nightie you bought for the occasion—but the temperature here is nice enough that you begin to feel looser.

“Let us help you unwind, yes? We start with a massage, okie dokie?”

Papa III makes a circling motion with this finger. You pull your arms out of your straps, careful to hold the material to your chest, before rolling over onto your stomach. You feel rather than see the two men climb onto the bed—Papa straddles your back while Copia situates himself closer to the pillows. As III peels your nightie down the rest of your back, Copia prods you with a pillow—it’s down-filled (much nicer than the polyester on you have in your room)—and you gratefully cuddle it to you. 

You hear the snick of a bottle being opened and feel III shift as he leans over to pour some sweet-smelling massage oil into Copia’s bare hands. You inhale deeply and exhale through your nose in anticipation. You don’t have to wait long before your feel the slick hands of Papa rubbing up and down the planes of your back. You’re wondering if they’ll take turns when Copia asks you to give him your hand. 

As good as Papa III’s hands are on your back, you moan in pleasure as Copia begins to expertly dig his thumbs into the meat of your palm. You didn’t know a hand massage could feel so good. And Copia is very thorough—you feel the press of his thumb not only on your palm, but also gently on the back of your hand and also as he carefully manipulates your fingers.

You could almost fall asleep like this, when III starts adeptly digging into the knots in your back. The press of his knuckles into the small of your back is deliciously welcome, and you let out a low groan of satisfaction. He slowly works his way up your back, making sure to give enough time and attention to any place he finds taut with tension. 

About the time he reaches your shoulders, Copia taps your other arm. Sluggishly you switch arms, hindered somewhat by Papa’s hands skillfully squeezing the tightness out of your shoulders. You feel as if you could melt right into the bed, and for a while you just luxuriate in the pleasant haze afforded by the two skilled men touching you.

You only notice that they’ve stopped when you feel your nightie being pulled back up; your movements are languid so Papa III and Copia help roll you over and get you back into your straps. You’d like to say they are perfect gentlemen, but you feel a purposeful finger swipe at one of your nipples—making you shudder—as they redress you. 

As they resituate themselves, you find yourself propped up between Copia’s open legs, back reclined against his chest. He’s stroking your arms and you shiver at the soft brush of the velvet material on your bare skin. Papa III sprawls on his side next to you, propping himself up on one arm. Looking up at you, he places a tentative hand on your knee.

“May I, little one?”

Gulping, you nod, Copia’s touch grounding you. III’s hand slowly slides over up your thigh, the light drag of it going straight to your clit. He rucks up the bottom of your nightie til he can hook a finger into the waistband of your matching panties. He hesitates only for a second, a careful look back up at you, before tugging them down. You help him maneuver them off, only to find some of your anxiety returning at the reality of having your pussy bare and exposed—you’d shaved your curls into a simple landing strip for the occasion.

You squeeze your legs together, suddenly tense. Copia peppers your head with kisses. “Shh … none of that now.” He brings his arms further around you to lightly toy with your nipples. You inhale sharply at the sensation, and your legs splay without your permission. Papa III takes the opportunity to drape his bare leg over yours, effectively holding it in place. He takes his thumb and traces it lightly over the seam of your lips; you let out a gasp.

“See? Does that not feel nice. You like when I do it, yes?”

You nod.

“Give me your hand.”

You tentatively do so, and he holds it in his—stroking the web of your thumb a bit—before placing it over both lips. It feels … weird. Fleshy. Warm. Nothing like his touch at all. Copia nuzzles your head, placing soft kisses on your ear. You must be making a face because Papa _tsks_ at you.

“Just get used to the feel. It is just your hand. Nothing more.”

He lets you adjust. At first you feel silly just reclined there with your hand between your legs, but—with Copia’s soft kisses and III’s calming caresses on your thigh—you relax into it.

“Good, yes. Now take your finger,” he holds up his index finger, “like this.” You copy him. “Now, just light touches, ok.”

“Tickle it,” whispers Copia into your ear.

You try your best to follow their instructions, drawing the pad of your finger along your seam, then up/down outside your labia. At first the feather-light touches do feel a little ticklish, but—as you continue your exploration—it begins to go straight to your clit. You close your eyes and rest your head against Copia’s shoulder. You experiment with angle, direction, and placement—enjoying the various sensations—until Papa III asks you to stop. You open your eyes to look at him.

He sucks his finger into his mouth and Copia moans behind you. III places the pad of it at the top of your slit before sinking it in—it hits your clit and you jerk, but he keeps going down til he reaches your hole. He slips the tip in and presses down. Another jolt courses through you and you let out a breathy sigh. His finger leaves you, and when you open your eyes, you see him reach it toward Copia, who eagerly sucks it into his mouth.

“Well, Rat?”

“Rrrrripe,” purrs Copia as he smacks his lips. You flush.

Papa takes your hand, guiding your finger into your slit and down toward your hole.

“Do you feel that? Feel how wet you are? How just the _slightest_ of touches can make you juicy?”

You can. You enjoy feeling wet when you’re turned out, but you don’t actually … touch it. The slick on your finger is not wet like water, not sticky like honey—more like something meant to coat. You think about how it must feel coating your partners' cocks, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Play with it, little one. I bet it feels good on your clit.”

You’re hesitant, so Papa III gently guides you to dip your finger into your hole, then to smear the viscous fluid up to your nub. You jerk at the intense shock of the feel of it. 

_Holy shit_.

Copia clasps you tighter and you can feel his arousal in your back. It sends another thrill down you, and you swipe again at your clit. And again.

And again.

Your finger slip slides over it in an enlightening burst of feeling. It feels good, but after a few dozen swipes, you’re not sure it’s enough.

Papa senses your growing your frustration. 

“Ah, yes. You must switch it up, no? Circles and the alphabet?”

“As when I use my tongue?” adds Copia.

To be honest, when they use their tongues, their technique is the last thing you’re thinking about. But you catch their drift. You try different motions, and—while it still feels ecstatic—it’s not enough to bring you higher.

“Show her The Thing,” you hear Copia say.

Curious, you focus back in on Papa III. He’s retrieved what looks like a slender popsicle. III is careful to hold your gaze as he drags the item up and down your leg.

“This,” he drawls out, “is a dilator. Some women like the feel of something in them. You try it, yes?”

You’re feeling pliable—and frustrated—so you squeak out a _yes!_. Papa grabs your unoccupied hand to place the dilator into.

“You control this, little one.”

Copia’s hands are on your stomach and nipples, to add extra stimulation. Shakily you press it to your entrance. You’re wet enough that your vagina seems to suck it in. Papa gently places his hand over yours, guiding your hand to press it down. The angle is just right to hit your hot button, and you groan out. You feel Copia’s erection throb against your back, and a glance at Papa shows he’s not unaffected either—it fuels your arousal to know how into this they are.

It’s not perfect—you struggle at first to find a happy rhythm between the finger on your clit and the hand controlling the dilator. It takes you out of your haze enough that you begin to feel self-conscious again. III just seems to sense your unease.

“Kiss her,” he commands, and Copia is angling his head so he can tangle his tongue with yours. Suddenly Papa III is in your other ear. “You’re so beautiful, do you know? Look at you. So flushed and pliant. Do you see what you do to me?”

You break the kiss with Copia to glance over at Papa III. His hand is in his novelty boxers, tugging at his cock—the head of which you can see peeking out the circle of his fist, all flushed and shiny with precum.

“And you, Cardinal?”

Copia grips you tighter and ruts his erection against your back.

“You’re doing so well, _cara_.”

It’s as if you can practically taste the pheromones in the air, and it’s making you drunk. It suddenly becomes imperative that you keep touching yourself as you alternate open-mouthed kisses between Copia and Papa III. You finger is flicking at your clit and you’re bearing down against the dilator—you’re desperate to climax but your wrists are also beginning to ache. You want to get off, but you also don’t want to get carpal tunnel.

You pause, panting and rotating your wrists.

Papa nuzzles into your neck, licks at the juncture where it meets your shoulder. Copia sucks at your earlobe.

“Mmm,” rumbles III. “Yes, perhaps that is too much for your first time, no? Do not worry—you practice enough, you build up your muscles, nice and strong”

He looks up at you smirking. But you’re in no mood to indulge him—you’re halfway there, the heaviness between your legs urging you forward to release.

Copia’s hands wander down, sliding lightly over your stomach before hovering above your mons.

“Some women just like the pressure. Sensitive enough that direct stimulation is not necessary.”

His hands form a V and he gives a light pulse on your lips, over where your clit is. It’s … definitely a different kind of stimulation. It’s not as electrifyingly intense as touching your nub directly, but after a few pulses you warm to the idea. The pleasure starts at your clit then radiates warmly down toward your hole, making your muscles clench and spasm. 

Your head lolls back at the sensation.

“Now. You,” breathes Copia as he positions your hands under his. He guides you in applying pressure to your now throbbing clit. You take over readily once he removes his hands to rest on your hips. You think this is much better, less performative. You writhe into your hands, pressing your sex up where your joined fingertips are pressing down. The dilator is still in you, and the added sensation is delicious to clench against.

You’re so into it you forget to feel self-conscious about bucking and writhing in time to the pleasure you’re giving yourself. Just as you think you’re getting close, your wrists cramp and you have to relax yourself. It’s at once frustrating to be so close and not yet able to crest, and also more intense each time you start up again.

You’re panting and gulping, twitching and jerking. 

Sensing your agitation, III places a stilling hand on your arm. You look over at him, eyes wide and dilated.

“Shh, little one. You’re not used to this. Perhaps in time? With practice? But not tonight, eh. This time we employ some help, yes?”

You think he means to get you off himself and you moan in relief, falling back into the safe embrace of Copia’s arms. But then you feel a cool, foreign object resting in your seam. Suddenly it buzzes to life and you jerk away in surprise.

 _Papa_ you hear Copia hiss, and the vibrator is removed from your person. You open your eyes to glare at a much chagrined-looking Papa III.

“Apologies, little one.” He finds your curled hand and passes the small bullet to you. “I meant only to show you how.”

You takes the buzzing device from him. It’s not as if either of the two have never used a vibrator on you before. You place it at the top of your slit before drawing your eyes back to III.

“Show me, Papa.”

He gently places his hand over yours to direct the bullet between your moist lips.

“Tell me when—” he starts until you interrupt him by letting out a load moan. The vibrator has hit your clit and it’s a _revelation_ as always. “Can you—” he tries again, but given the freedom of your own, you’re pressing and circling the bullet on and around your clit as you see fit. It’s so different than having someone else do it. Not intense as when you cede control, but intense in the way that you’re your own authority over your own own climax.

You’re tapping it steadily on and off your clit, aware in some way that you’re just saying _ThereThereThereThereThere_ over and over again. You feel your back arching, the saliva pooling in your mouth, and—even though you don’t feel the normal moment of blankness before you cum as you do when you are not mistress of your own pleasure—you can feel by the uncontrollable popping of your pussy that signifies you’re about to cum.

Hard.

It’s almost too much. Copia pulls you tight against his chest as you start to shake and moan and buck. A hand is suddenly on yours, keeping the vibrator in place, and you feel it when you start squirting. You don’t even care about the mess, it feels so integral to the experience of this climax.

Papa can get his fucking sheets dry cleaned.

The minute you start to feel oversensitive you drop the bullet and curl in on yourself, squeezing your thighs together to ride out the aftershocks. You’re sweaty, panting and shaking. You realize you’re now held between the two men, being whispered to and stroked, _Dear one; So good for us_ ; _You did so well_.

When you come back to yourself, you find that you and Copia are now on your sides. and your front is pressed into Papa III. His thigh is in between yours, and you can’t help but to clamp your legs down and mash your wetness into it. You just orgasmed, but you’re far from satisfied. More like … activated.

You press your head into Papa’s shoulder as you start whimpering and grinding your still throbbing clit into his thigh. He groans, but Copia says, “Yessss, that’s it, _cara_. Lots of women masturbate just by grinding into something soft.”

You’re sure there’s some dig at III there, but: whatever. If Papa III is going to let you use him for your own pleasure, you’re not going to stop and overthink anything else. You take great pleasure in smearing your wetness all over him, so overcome are you in your post and pre orgasmic fog. Your clit is still spasming and sensitive enough that it doesn’t take much longer before you’re having another shuddering climax, this time sucking Papa’s tongue into your mouth.

You’re content to lie there—after giving your assent to Copia to jack off behind you (Papa III came somewhere between your first and second orgasm)—being stroked and kissed by the two of them. You know that soon the 3 of you will have to move—hopefully into III’s sumptuous tub!—but for now you’re just content to laze in the cloud of contentment you feel.


End file.
